


Hermia

by inkandpaperhowl



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperhowl/pseuds/inkandpaperhowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athena understood. Athena knew. Athena felt the same way. Hermes hadn’t even said anything about it when the goddess of war turned and looked at her and said, simply, "I know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hermia

See, here's the thing about Hermes:

I.   
She played tricks all the time.  _All the time_. Apollo hated her on principle, Mr Perfect Hair himself, too busy with poetry and, you know,  _saving_   _people_  to be bothered with her silly jokes. And he'd never forgiven her for stealing his cows. They were just  _cows_ , and she'd invented him a new instrument and everything, but some people just didn't know when to let go. 

II.   
Aphrodite couldn't stand her, either, but she wondered if that stemmed more from that one time she'd thrown rat poison on the goddess' hairbrush, and all of her beautiful locks and fallen out and refused to regrow for a month. 

III.   
Artemis enjoyed annoying her brother almost as much as Hermes did, but she didn't approve of Hermes' thieving. They used to wander together all the time, roaming around the known world, and sometimes the unknown one, too. But Artemis liked the woods and the solitude, and Hermes was all about following the road. You met such interesting people on the road, and they all had such grand stories to tell. Sometimes they talked about the amazing places they'd just left, sometimes they spoke of the families they were on their way to see, sometimes they told tales of magic and monsters, and Hermes couldn't get enough of those. But Artemis despised people who talked too much, and she took to sighing loudly whenever Hermes suggested she accompany the huntress on a trip.  _You'll scare the game away, Hermes,_  or  _You'll complain about poison ivy, Hermes_ , or  _You'll keep playing tricks on me when I'm trying to do my damn job, Hermes_. She forgot that part of Hermes' job was playing tricks. Hermes stopped asking Artemis if she wanted to travel together. 

IV.   
Hephaestus was always too busy. He never said anything one way or the other about Hermes; he never really said anything one way or the other about anyone. Hermes thought she'd caught the smith smiling at more than a few of her pranks--he sure know how to appreciate a good prank--but he was always too busy. She left him alone. Everyone left him alone. 

V.   
Demeter cried a lot, especially in winter, and Hermes wasn't really equipped to deal with that. She didn't approve of theft, either, and no matter how many times Hermes reminded her that it wasn't her fault thieves prayed to her, Demeter just gave her the stern mother glare of disappointment, and Hermes left quickly after that. 

VI.   
Ares was an ass. He was fun to play pranks on--he got so riled up all the time. But he was far too invested in war for Hermes' taste. There's only so much screaming about the blood of one's enemies a girl can take. Besides, it's no fun hanging around a guy who doesn't respect you because you'd rather be legging it down the road  _away_  from a battle than, you know, killing people. 

VII.   
Hermes was scared of Hera. All of Zeus' children were. 

VIII.   
Dionysus was clever and he figured her out before anyone else did. He laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. Hermes burst into tears, and all he did was offer her some wine.  _I was confused once, too, brother_ , he said, pouring more wine into her cup.  _Then again, I'm usually confused_. He wasn't. He just liked people to think he was. If they thought he was petty and cruel out of drunkenness as opposed to just  _actually_  being petty and cruel, that was much better for his image.  _You'll get over it, brother._  She'd asked him to stop calling her that, but he'd just laughed a little bit more and sloshed more wine into his mouth. He saw too much, that was Dionysus' problem. No, his real problem was that he drank so much he wouldn't have to deal with anything he saw. Hermes left a full cup of wine behind when she left, his laughter still ringing in her ears. 

IX.   
Poseidon understood, but he didn’t approve. The sea was change: tides forever shifting, waves breaking rocks down into dust, nothing ever staying in one place for long. The whole point of the sea was change, and she had hoped that Poseidon of all people would understand. He understood, but he didn’t approve.  _You wouldn’t be able to travel alone anymore, son, think of that_. Of course I would, I’m a god, you blithering idiot, she wanted to scream, but of course, it didn’t work like that. She realized that he just didn’t want to be bothered by the complications that might come with it; the sea was a simple creature, ultimately, just hydrogen and oxygen that swung to the dance of the moon. There was constancy there, as well as change. Too much constancy.

X.   
She didn’t even think of Hades. For some reason, no one ever thought of Hades.  

XI.   
Hestia just smiled in that motherly way she had, and hugged her. That smile had always slightly disturbed Hermes, possibly because it reminded her so much of the smile she’d seen on her own mother’s face, once, before her mother had disappeared. Zeus’ lovers always seemed to disappear. Hestia just hugged her, but didn’t say a word. 

XII.   
Athena understood. Athena  _knew_. Athena felt the same way. Hermes hadn’t even said anything about it when the goddess of war turned and looked at her and said, simply,  _I know._  She was born out her father’s head, fully armed and covered in blood, screaming a war cry to the edges of time. She was brilliant and clever and she saw patterns in armies the same way Poseidon saw the currents shift or the way Hephaestus saw the ripples in good, forged copper. She could turn the tide of a battle with one swing of a spear. And they gave her handicrafts, weaving...they shut her up in dresses and did her hair in curls and ignored the storms raging behind her grey eyes. She sliced off her left breast as the Amazons did, and she didn’t even whimper in pain. She would have sliced off the other one, too, but she knew better than that.  _No matter what we think, we can’t change what they make us_ , she said sadly, holding Hermes’ hand.  _We are bound by what they give us; if they stop believing in us, we are nothing. So we become what they believe in, even if their belief is wrong_. Hermes wanted to scream that that wasn’t how it worked, that it shouldn’t have to be that way, that there was something, anything they could do. But Athena shook her head, and went back to work, cutting her fingers on the tiny threads, weaving her own blood into the tapestry. 

XIII.   
Zeus called her to him one day, and since one doesn’t ignore the summons from one’s father, especially if one’s father is the king of the gods, she flew to him immediately. She was hopeful. This was the man who had taken the form of a swan, of golden mist, of a rampaging bull. He more than anyone should know what it was to be uncomfortable in one’s own skin. But he looked at her with sad eyes.  _It is time to put aside these childish games, my son_ , he said.  _They have built you temples. They have dedicated you roads. They pray to you._  She didn’t say what she wanted to say: that they would continue to do these things no matter what.  _It was a good trick son, and it’s amazing how long you’ve kept it up, but it’s time to move on. The joke isn’t funny anymore_. 

Hermes wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a joke. 

She wanted to scream from the rooftops of Olympus. 

For the first time in her life, she wanted to raise up her staff and strike with it, strike over and over until it drew blood. Ares would have been proud. 

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t a joke, but she’d played one too many pranks before. That was the problem with lying professionally: no one paid attention when you told the truth. 

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t a joke, but instead she lowered her head, tightened her sandals, and took up the weight of the day’s messages. 

“Yes, father,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this doesn't offend anyone or anything. It's not…it's just a head canon I've had kicking around for a while I wanted to get out there. Thanks for bothering to read.


End file.
